Sport's Medicine
by Katiesmom07
Summary: House/Wilson SLASH oneshot fic set just after "Sport's Medicine" S1E12 in which House can't stand that Wilson betrayed him and in his anger reveals his secret.


Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the two sexy men you're about to read about. But if I do ever get a chance to purchase them, I will definitely NOT be sharing! LOL

Author's Notes: I have decided to embark on a little adventure. I have recently been popping in my old DVDs of season one of House and I was thinking of what I thought of the House/Wilson relationship at that exact point. So, I will be writing several oneshot fics each taking place directly after the episode they are named for. There will be spoilers for the episode mentioned, not that will matter since I'm sure each of us have already seen these eps, but I thought I'd better mention it or get scolded! Please keep in mind that I tried to push all information out of my mind except exactly what was given to us in the episode titled and previous episodes. Also, this will **not be a series**, saying that you will NOT have to read this one to read the next. Nothing that happened in this one will be mentioned or will have happened in the next. The only connection is that they will all be House/Wilson mostly SLASH fics. Hope you enjoy!

Sports Medicine

The enticing scent of brewing coffee and sizzling bacon roused House from his slumber. Stretching, he honed his senses. Someone was cooking in his kitchen. His brow furrowed, trying to remember the past twelve-hour's events.

He had gone to the monster truck jam with Cameron. Had she come home with him? No. He distinctly remembered the disappointment in her eyes that she'd tried to hide unsuccessfully when he'd dropped her at her doorstep directly after the show.

Rolling to the side, he retrieved the amber vial from his nightstand and shook a Vicodin into his palm before popping it into his mouth and dry swallowing it. So, it wasn't Cameron creating the delicious smelling meal in his kitchen. He had, in fact, been somewhat miserable after dropping Cameron off. He'd actually thought twice, maybe three times, about inviting her home with him. Their non-date had gone quite well. She had managed to push off any personal questions 'til the end and even then she'd settled for his vague answer and she'd actually seemed to enjoy herself.

And lost in his secret depression over his best friend's deception, House had very nearly lost himself in the moments of indiscretion that Cameron's body could provide him. But when he turned to her, he looked into her eyes and knew that it would be a mistake. She was not who he needed.

But he had indeed been depressed. Momentarily he wondered whether he'd paid for overnight company, but immediately dismissed it, knowing that even if he had his money would not have paid for breakfast.

Carefully, he made the move to get out of bed, choosing to don a pair of lounge pants to meet his guest, still trying to solve the puzzle. He made his way to the bathroom with another thought. If someone was cooking bacon, that person had also bought it and brought it to his apartment this morning. Smiling in the mirror, he had found his solution. There was only one person on earth who bought him food, let alone cooked it for him. Secondly, there was only one person who had a key to his apartment other than himself. Wilson. With his cane in hand, he followed his nose to the kitchen.

Wilson heard the telltale limp with the added thump of the cane as it approached the kitchen. He was busy flipping pancakes and making sure the bacon didn't get crisp so House wouldn't complain. He needed this breakfast to be perfect. Even though House had said it didn't bother him that Wilson was going to dinner with Stacy, Wilson saw in his best friend's eyes that he had been lying. Everybody lies, true to his own words.

After a horrible dinner and a sleepless night, Wilson had gotten out of bed and headed to the grocery store before the sun had risen. Food was the way to House's heart. Contrary to popular belief, House did in fact have a heart and he could be hurt. He realized that he had hurt House by going to dinner with Stacy. How much, he wasn't sure. Hopefully breakfast would provide them with time to talk with the small buffer of home cooked food.

House walked into the kitchen finding Wilson as he suspected, bacon, eggs and pancakes all cooking on the stovetop and a fresh pot of coffee brewed. With a slight smirk, House walked toward the cup that was already waiting for him sitting on the counter.

After a sip of the perfectly brewed roast, he finally spoke. "Julie kick you out?" Of course he knew the answer was no. If Julie had kicked Wilson out yet again, House would have found him asleep on his couch rather than cooking in his kitchen. This was about something entirely different.

Wilson tried to remain nonchalant. "Nope."

Time to have a little fun. Wiggling his finger between them, "Did we...did you spend the night?"

With a raised eyebrow, Wilson didn't disappoint. "Possibly."

"Possibly? Hmm." House leaned against the counter as he sipped his coffee, loving the suggestive banter they were so good at. "So, either the answer is yes and you regret the whole thing or the answer is no, but you secretly wish the answer was yes."

While flipping golden pancakes onto plates, "Possibly."

House waited until they were seated, full plates in front of both of them, before changing the mood. "So, how was dinner?"

Wilson swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes were focused on his plate, avoiding House's at all costs. He had wanted to ease into the subject, but he should have known that House wouldn't allow that. "It was…okay."

"Who'd you go with again?" He waited for Wilson to answer, even though he knew there would be no response, and after a couple of moments of silence, "Oh yeah. It was Stacy, right?"

Wilson had now reverted to pushing his food around his plate with his fork, channeling his nervousness. His voice was a mere, weak whisper. "Yes."

"So how is she? I mean now. You know, in the five years since she ruined my life. I know all the rest."

His voice just a bit stronger, "You told me you were okay with my going to dinner with her."

House bit back his retort about Wilson being an idiot and controlled the words that actually came from his mouth. "Who said I wasn't? I just wanted to catch up. I wonder why she didn't call me to ask me to dinner while she was in town?"

Nearly back to his normal self, Wilson picked up a sarcastic tone. "Just a guess, but probably because the last time the two of you spoke you told her that if she walked out your door you never wanted to see her face again."

"Actually I said that I never wanted to see her _pathetic _face again."

"Well, I was paraphrasing."

"So? How is she?"

Wilson stumbled for a bit before asking, "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm doing an experiment on how people cope after they've deserted someone they supposedly loved during their most vulnerable point in life. I thought I could use her in my study."

Wilson cringed at the sarcasm that dripped from House's every word. Stacy had truly hurt House. She'd left only days after House had left the hospital after his infarction, saying that she couldn't handle the new Greg. Wilson of course had come to the rescue, spending every moment with House while he not only healed his leg but also his broken heart. It had been weeks and weeks of hell. House had been truly miserable, and there had been moments when Wilson had almost agreed with how Stacy felt. But then he would catch a glimpse in House's eyes that told him that things were only this way because of the severe pain he was going thru. He saw past House's hard shell, and Stacy didn't.

After a deep breath, "She's fine. Married. No kids. Seemingly happy."

There was a brief silence in which Wilson didn't dare look across the table. When he spoke, House's tone was very dry. "Great. I'll make sure to add that to my notes."

"Why do you even want to know?"

"I don't."

Wilson finally looked at his best friend. "Then what's this about?"

"It's about one friend betraying another."

Wilson dropped his fork, coming to terms with the fact that he would not be eating any time soon. He rubbed at his forehead. "You said this was okay."

"No, I said that I had no right to tell you that you couldn't see her."

"And I was supposed to interpret that, how?"

House glared into Wilson's eyes. "Maybe how a best friend should have."

"Maybe if you didn't speak in code I could understand you."

"Maybe if you'd actually listen, you'd realize it isn't a damn code."

Wilson stood, tired of the childish banter. "This is ridiculous." He carried his plate to the sink, knowing he wouldn't eat if even given the chance now. Breakfast had been ruined, nearly before it had started. He went back to the table with his hands on his hips. This had to end. "I'm sorry I had dinner with her."

The legs on House's chair scraped as he pushed it back from the table. His voice rose with his body as he too carried his plate to the sink, though his was mostly empty. "I don't care that you had dinner with her."

Wilson flung his arms out. "What the hell are you mad at then?"

The younger man wasn't prepared for the finger that pointed dangerously close to his face. "Tell me how many times I've bought you something!"

Frustration rang out in Wilson's voice. "You're mad about the money?"

Completely ignoring the question, House repeated his requested, his words spaced out for emphasis. "Tell me how many times I've bought you something!"

Running a hand over his face, "I don't know. Five?"

House's voice lowered to a calm monotone. "Yet you didn't find it important when I spent five hundred dollars on a tickets for you?"

Raising his hands in defense, "Okay, okay. I realize that this was important to you. I'm sorry that I didn't think of it before. But you still got to go. And Cameron went with you."

House's eyes fell to the floor. "If I had wanted to go with Cameron, I would have asked her before you. I bought the damn ticket for you."

"Fine. So you're mad that I couldn't go with you. We'll go to the next one together."

House's anger flared again. "There is no _next one!_ This was once in a lifetime! And I wanted to share it with _you!_ But instead you chose to go to dinner with Stacy!"

And suddenly it dawned on Wilson. House wasn't upset about the dinner itself, but the fact that seemingly Wilson had chosen Stacy over him. He had no idea how deep House's hurt ran. He was so distant on the outside, hiding the feelings that must haunt his heart and soul. Wilson's voice was just above a whisper as he spoke. "I'm so sorry House. I never even thought…trust me-"

House's yell made Wilson jump. "Trust you? Right. I'll just do that; you and Stacy both! Funny, isn't it, that I managed to fall in love with the two people in my life who seem to have no problem betraying me?" Wilson stood stunned into silence as House averted his eyes, avoiding Wilson's like the plague. Motioning toward the counters, "Clean up this mess then get the hell out of here."

As he walked away, House realized how arrogant it had been for him to order Wilson to clean up before kicking him out. But as he slammed the bedroom door behind him he couldn't care less. He hated being the vulnerable one. He despised showing his feelings. Yet in the matter of twenty minutes, Wilson had brought him to both points. Now, not only did Wilson know that he had actually hurt House's feelings, but he also knew House's secret. He was in fact in love with his best friend, his male best friend. It was a secret that he'd hid for almost five years. But now that was over, along with their friendship.

House fell onto the bed, exhausted even though he'd only just woken up. He reached for the pill bottle on his nightstand and only momentarily contemplated his second Vicodin in less than an hour before popping it into his mouth. He needed to sleep, to forget. As his eyes drifted closed only minutes later, he listened to the distant sound of water running and dishes clinking. Wilson was cleaning the kitchen.

An undeterminable amount of time later, House woke, not from being rested but from the pure need to go to the bathroom. His apartment, unlike when he'd fallen asleep, was completely silent. He sighed as he pushed himself to a seated position, his leg telling him that it was time for yet another pill.

He stared at the bottle angrily after he'd taken the pill, silently blaming the pills for easing one pain but causing another. He tossed the bottle onto the table and watched it bounce to the floor before standing and heading to the bathroom.

It wasn't until he entered the living room that he realized he wasn't alone. Lying on his couch was Wilson's sleeping form, snoring ever so slightly, shoes lying underneath the coffee table. House struggled between poking at his best friend with his cane to ask him why the hell he was still here and taking the few available moments to watch him sleep. Selfishly, the latter won out, knowing that the first could come later.

Over the past few years, House had watched Wilson sleep several times. To other people Wilson always appeared cool and collected, but House knew that his best friend's mind was in turmoil more times then not. But when he slept, Wilson was at peace. A calm serenity came over his face and the gentle, even rise and fall of his chest created tranquility in Wilson's otherwise hectic life. House blamed Wilson's stress on his marriages, but knew deep down that he had created at least a small portion of the other man's trauma.

Seated in the chair with his feet propped on the coffee table, House wondered just why Wilson had stayed. It could be his compulsion to keep the peace, which he did with both of his ex wives, but House wasn't sure if even Wilson's OCD could help them.

Within minutes, Wilson began to stir. Once his eyes opened, House asked, "Didn't I tell you to leave?"

Wilson rubbed his eyes as he rose to a seated position. "Actually you told me to get the hell out of here."

House suppressed his chuckle. "So what are you still doing here?"

"I figured we needed to talk."

"I'm not one of your ex wives that you can win over with all of the furniture and a fat check every month."

"Of course not. All the furniture is already yours."

House glared at Wilson momentarily, lost between wanting to laugh or be pissed that he was taking this so lightly. "So what is it exactly you'd like to talk about?"

Wilson had a long time to think about the words he wanted to say. He'd rehearsed his speech at least a couple times before falling asleep, content with knowing that House's interruptions would disturb his flow. He cleared his throat before starting. "I didn't mean to choose Stacy over you. I never even thought of it that way."

"I never said you did."

Having expected an interruption at just that point, he never stumbled. "I had the plans with her before you asked me to the monster truck jam and it didn't even register to me to change my plans. I should've changed dinner to tonight, or not have gone at all." He paused for House's reaction and was shocked when he didn't get one. "If it makes you feel better, I had a miserable time. All I thought about was you. I don't even remember half of the things we talked about. That's why I can't really tell you anything about how she's doing." Again, House didn't speak, but Wilson noticed the tiny glimmer of pleasure in his friend's eyes.

With a little more confidence, he continued. "I regret not going with you and had I known little tidbits of information about our relationship that I haven't been privy to until today, things would have been different."

House straightened, placing his feet on the floor. "Ah yes, here we go, all the new rules for our relationship. So what's it gonna be, Jimmy, no more sleepovers or sharing food?"

Wilson chuckled slightly. "You know you're the only one who calls me that?"

After a slight pause, "No I'm not. The inscription on the baseball card said Jimmy too."

"Because I told him to write it…because I like it." He was headed off the course of his planned speech. Veering back on course, "No more secrets, House."

This was the beginning of the rules that would either make them or break them. "Everyone has secrets."

Wilson rolled his eyes at House's defiance. "No more secrets that pertain to out relationship."

"You're not ready for that."

"You told me that you're in love with me. I'm pretty sure that's the most startling bit of information that you can share with me."

House's eyes gleamed as he rose. He closed the distance between the two of them and pressed the end of his cane against Wilson's chest, pushing him back into the couch cushions. Leaning over, balancing with a hand on the sofa a whisper away from each of Wilson's shoulders, House spoke in a husky whisper. "So, if I told you I fantasize about how your lips would feel against mine and how you would taste when my tongue darted into your mouth, that wouldn't startle you?"

Wilson licked his lips before answering. "No."

A hint of pride struck House, wondering how much courage it was taking for Wilson to not back down. He pushed further to see how much the younger man could take. He kneeled onto the couch with his left leg, ever careful of the right one. His lips hovered dangerously close to Wilson's as he spoke yet again. "And if I told you I just couldn't take it any more, that I just had to find out, that wouldn't bother you at all?"

He waited with eyes staring deep into Wilson's, begging his body to remain in control and not react to the sexual tension he was creating. He tried to read the emotion in the brown orbs and found fear and apprehension mixed with shock. But he squinted when he thought he found just a hint of desire swirling in the midst. The moment was lost though when Wilson made the bold move to close the distance between them, catching House completely off guard.

House's cane clattered to the floor as each man clumsily groped at the other. The kiss immediately deepened, tongues clashing, fighting for control. Unable to hold himself steady any longer, House fell to the side, bringing Wilson with him. Without hesitation, Wilson straddled House's lap as he pushed his hands thru the curls at the back of the older man's neck.

A moan rose from House's chest when Wilson pressed against him, the erection between them evident. Shirts were quickly removed and the first moment of skin-to-skin contact sent both men into frenzy. House's hands roamed over Wilson's back while he nipped and sucked at the available flesh of his exposed neck and chest. Wilson's head flung back while he vocalized indiscernible words of pleasure and passion.

With only the slightest pressure, House urged Wilson to his feet. Their lips met as they slowly moved toward the bedroom, bumping into tables, walls and bookcases as they went, all the while fumbling with the button and zipper of Wilson's jeans. Once they hit the edge of the bed, Wilson quickly pulled at the waistband of House's lounge pants while House tugged Wilson's jeans over his hips. With clothes pooled on the floor, both men fell into bed clawing at each other in an effort to get as close as possible.

Knowing his leg would allow nothing else at this point, House rolled onto his back and pulled Wilson on top of him. Like this was a regular event for them, they quickly found a rhythm erections thrusting against each other, moans and syllables of desire emitting from both men. House's orgasm was building quickly. Gathering his last bit of self-control, he yanked hard at Wilson's hips and thrust his own hips at the same moment as he shouted a single word. "Jimmy."

He felt the quiver of Wilson's body and the warm rush of fluid between their bodies just before allowing himself his own release. They clung to each other as their bodies jerked together, both lost in the wave of passion.

Wilson was still panting when he relaxed on House's chest. "I love you, too, House."


End file.
